


Make Your Move

by Theneverendinghunger



Category: American Horror Story: Apocalypse, Michael Langdon - Fandom
Genre: Demons, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gore, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Nightmares, Sexual Tension, depictions of hell, graphic depictions of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28232346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theneverendinghunger/pseuds/Theneverendinghunger
Summary: Your Outpost interview is composed with a game of chess.
Relationships: Michael Langdon & Reader, Michael Langdon & You, Michael Langdon/Reader, Michael Langdon/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	Make Your Move

_“Make your move...”_

_The bannister railing was slick under your hands as your fingers tightened their deadly grip, the colossal, mounting fright that wracked your body seeped from your palms as your eyes fell to the horror that took place below you. The Outpost occupants acted as pieces, standing in squares as they quaked in fear, waiting in growing trepidation for the announcement of your next move, their thudding hearts resounding around the corners of your mind. Lifeless bodies twitched against the expansive checkered floor as fallen, claimed pieces, their blood tarnishing the black and white blocks in pools, seeping from their necks as the ancient, hellish shadows finished retrieving the souls of the casualties._

_Your eyes panned rapidly from person to person, piece to piece as you played several angles at once in your disastrous, clouded mind, all avenues inevitably ending with your capture as king, and him taking your soul to hell instead of the Sanctuary. You scratched your forehead in dread as you enforced yourself to breathe, to concentrate clearly as you closed your eyes momentarily, banishing his smooth, inundating voice and growl of conquering laughter from your thoughts._

_Tears welled in your eyes at the guileful touch of his fingers, your mind and body imprisoned in his torturous game of life and death as he trailed his fingers over your elbow to your taut shoulder. He rounded his chest toward you as you tried to shrug him away, both hands firmly clasping your shoulders in place as he stared into your profile, the maniacal grin slowly spreading over his devious lips, your predicament being his ultimate entertainment. His breath tickled your ear as he exhaled, his nose swarming into your hair as he spoke barely above a whisper, his silver-tongued voice ricocheting throughout your head “You only have one option, Y/N...”_

_“You don’t think I know that?” Your voice cracked as you turned your face away from his conniving view, your fingers catching the rouge tears that streamed down your cheek, the sacrifice of your friend, your queen, being your only viable option to stay afloat in the hellish game. Her frightened eyes found yours from below, her pleading look telling you she knew that she was your next move, her mouth silently asking you to spare her._

_“What will you do?”_

_You turned to him, his smirking lips dangerously close to yours as his palm caressed you from your shoulder to your collarbone. “Will you choose with your head,” he questioned as his nose brushed temptingly against yours, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth with each murmured word, his fingers crawling down your chest before settling his palm between over your rapidly beating heart. “Or will you choose with this?”_

_His fingers rhythmically drummed over your chest, mimicking the hastened beats of your heart as your eyes turned toward her, hunched over, shuddering with silent sobs as her knees buckled, collapsing onto the black square. “Will you save her pitiful excuse for a life or will you save your own?”_

_All sounds dissipated as you watched her heave on the floor, pieces of your heart breaking away with each cry that escaped her, wrapping her terror-stricken arms around her frame as she prepared for her own sacrificial death. Your eyes scanned the floor for the last time in vain, all of your hope being deliberately sucked from your mind with each of his triumphant inhales next to your ear, your anguish fueling his depraved fire._

_“Your heart is saying yes,” he whispered, his eyes shifting toward his occupied hand. “To save her from the torments of hell...” His embrace on your chest and shoulder tightened, stabilizing you as your limbs became weak, the decision to end your friend’s life in exchange for you own too hefty a choice for you to bear. “But your mind knows that she would eagerly cast you aside if the tables were turned.”_

_Your lungs stilled within your ribcage, your restless heart thudding wildly as your eyes focused on the Purple Bishop that was protecting your Queen. Your once heavy head craned forward slowly in epiphany as your eyes blinked rapidly, panning over the checkered floor, an aggressive move playing itself out in your mind. You could feel his gaze move from you, following your line of sight to the trembling Bishop, an ominous chuckle cocooning you, shifting his head in disbelief as you announced your move aloud._

_“What a disappointment, Y/N,” he sighed disapprovingly, gesturing for his demonic Knight to take your Bishop as he returned his expectant gaze back to you. Your eyes snapped shut, grimacing at the horrific sounds of muffled screams and tearing flesh that took place only feet below you. “It seems I’ve overestimated you.”_

_You turned deliberately once he’d fallen into your trap, squaring your chest to him as your own nefarious grin spread to the corners of your lips. Your fingers snaked under the lapels of his velvet dinner jacket, the smooth velvet hot to the touch as you pulled your shoulders back in your own feat. “But you see, Mr. Langdon, it seems you’ve underestimated me in you attempt to throw me off balance.”_

_“Is that so?” His brows raised in question as your fingers twirled around his red scarf, a firm tug bringing his body flush against yours. You mimicked his sultry ministrations, your lips nearly touching his as they moved over his cheek toward his ear, your own fingers kneading into his shoulders as you spoke. “By sacrificing my Knight, your Queen is now exposed to at least one of my pieces,” you cooed suggestively, “and check will soon follow...”_

_His skeptical laughter filled the room as he pulled away, his own fingers clutching the bannister railing as his disbelieving eyes scanned the game floor. You turned leisurely to stand next to him, your satisfied gaze settling on his tensing limbs, his face of composure contorting to one of displeasure as your fingers traveled over his shoulders, brushing his hair away from his ear as your lips ghosted over the shell of his ear. “Zugzwang, Mr. Langdon. Make your move...”_

_After a few very lengthy seconds, he straightened himself from the ledge as he exhaled, his fingers finding his lapels, straightening his jacket as he rolled his neck, the vertebral cracks echoing throughout the enclosed space. He closed the gap between you with the tiniest of steps, his eyes cast down to yours, a flickering darkness washing over them like a raging storm caught within the atmosphere. “Well played, Y/N.”_

_“Except...” His fingers enclosed around your throat quicker than you could comprehend what was unfolding, your toes kicking, searching for their footing above the ground as you dug your nails haphazardly into his forearm. “Do you think I play by the fucking rules?” You gasped for air, fractured squeals permeated through your thwarted throat as he forcefully trapped your body between his hips and the bannister railing, tilting your body to dangle over the edge._

_“Do you really think I’d let you beat me?” he spat through gritted teeth, his features twisting with unbridled wrath as his enclosure around your throat tightened. Your fingers clawed at his face and shoulders, frantic for something to grasp as you gasped for air, your vision becoming weaker by the second. “Did you think any of your pathetic souls would be worthy of the Sanctuary?”_

_Sounds of thunderous rumblings rose from beneath your hanging body, the smell of burning sulfur whirling like wind around the Outpost walls as a blinding red glow flooded the room from below. Blood curdling screams were swallowed by the roaring grumbles of the disappearing floor, the stone walls and pillars cracking as the earth shifted, the gates of Hell opening to claim the Outpost whole._

_He lifted you by your strangled throat as the room crumbled around you, your oxygen deprived eyes leveled to his as his furious features became those of dominant composure once again, his hair whipping violently in the boiling cyclones of winds that thrashed around you both. His ringed fingers caressed your dampened, cinder-covered cheek tenderly as his clutch on your throat momentarily weakened, his self-possessed eyes fixated on your staggered, coughing gasps as he brought you closer._

_“Why did you have to defy me?” he murmured against your panting lips, claiming them delicately before pulling away, drinking in your sight once more. “I would’ve chosen you...”_

_Gravity enveloped its dense arms around you as he released his crushing fingers from around your neck with a shove, your lips petrified into a silent scream as your hands grabbed for anything to prevent your descending plummet into the fiery depths to hell, tearing his dinner jacket away as he ripped his arm away from your desperate grasp._

\-----

The thud against the wooden floor jolted you out of the grips of your nightmare, a wave of oxygen flooding your lungs as you gasped, your fingers frozen in their fruitless scratching against the phantom hand ligature, plunged in perpetual sense memory as your eyes snapped open. You choked on the harsh intake of air as you laid on your Outpost bedroom floor, your eyes surveying the familiar surroundings, gradually rising as you heard the wooden groan of your bedroom door moving against the doorpost. Your disoriented eyes darted toward the source as the door swayed slowly, moving with the motions of those passing by. 

You stood with the assistance of your bed, your unsteady legs claiming a couple of uncertain strides toward your door, pushing the vessel closed with the exhausted lean of your body. Your forehead rested against the hard surface, cooling your clammy skin as your hand clutched your churning stomach, swallowing the pooling saliva that accompanied the rising bile in your throat. Taking several deep, steadying breaths, you willed yourself to recover from the most surreal, vividly disturbing dream of your existence.

The feeling of free falling into the depths of hell haunted your battered mind, your fingers grounding you as they wrapped around the doorknob for support. The pungent smell of pooling blood and burning sulfur tinged your nose with each inhale, broken visions of the dead Outpost companions flashed with each blink of your eyelids, kneading fingers still nestled into your shoulders despite it all being a dreadful dream.

Adrenaline flooded through your veins at the unwelcomed pounding against your door, your hand clutching your chest as you jumped away in surprise. You were met with Venable’s henchwoman as you opened the door, motioning for you to follow her. “You’re being summoned for your interview.”

Your bewildered feet trailed behind her through the winding hallways toward the atrium of the Outpost, your speed slowing as your eyes cautiously examined the setting of your diabolical nightmare. No longer was the floor checkered with large black and while squares, painted with innocent blood, littered with dead bodies in the form of claimed chess pieces before opening into an all-consuming hell mouth.

A new wave of unease washed over you with the closure of the Outpost office doors, the roaring fires deafening against the silent room, your breathing becoming shallow as your eyes immediately settled on the surface of the mahogany desk. You were hesitant in your approach toward the object that captured your attention, your eyes blinking rapidly as you examined the sixty-eight gleaming squares, alternating in red and black marble. Your fingers froze over the red and black ivory pieces, flashes of your nightmare piercing your mind as you recognized the eerily familiar placements, a game that hadn’t been concluded.

“Ms. Y/L/N.”

You pulled your fingers away from the board quickly, your disconcerted eyes meeting his as he calmly ambled beside you, a poised smirk alighting his face as he turned the corner of the desk opposite to you. You watched as his fingers submerged into his tailcoat jacket pocket, retrieving several black and red objects, the missing ivory pieces, the missing representations of the dead players from your nightmare, gracefully placing them onto their appropriate spaces.

“Your file tells me you’re an exceptional chess player.”

You followed his movements apprehensively like prey watching a predator, his hands ruffling his tailcoat before leisurely taking his seat behind the desk opposite to you. With his elbows placed calmly on the edge of the desk, his chin perched within his fingers, he silently asked you to join him, his eyebrow raised as he gestured toward the chair behind you.

“Shall we, Ms. Y/L/N?”


End file.
